of balconies and shakespeare
by perfectlyrose
Summary: Rose is reading on her balcony when her neighbor drunkenly stumbles by and ends up quoting a well-known Shakespeare scene at her. (Ten/Rose AU)


prompted on tumblr with Ten/Rose + "I was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting Romeo and Juliet at me" so this is what happened.  
All italics are direct quotes from the famous balcony scene in Romeo and Juliet

* * *

Rose was sitting on the balcony of her flat drinking a glass of white wine and trying to get some of her reading done for her lit class. It was a warm night, probably the last one of the year, and Rose was taking advantage of it.

She was highlighting a section of her book when she heard someone crash into the bushes below her. She leaned over the edge, wineglass in hand, and saw a tall man with wild hair and wearing a pinstripe suit disentangling himself from the foliage, cursing quietly.

Rose giggled at his slurring words. It was a Friday night and apparently one of her neighbors had started celebrating early and was heading home at only 9 pm completely soused.

"Are you okay?" she called, trying to stifle a laugh.

The man stumbled backwards and looked up at her, grin breaking over his face as he figured out who was talking to him.

He raised a hand towards her, not seeming to mind that her balcony was not on the ground level. "But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?" He started quoting. "It is the east, and Juliet is the sun."

Rose giggled. "I'm fairly impressed that you can quote Shakespeare when you're as drunk as you seem to be."

He bowed grandly, stumbling a bit as his equilibrium was compromised. He rose back up and winked before starting to quote again, skipping over some of the scene to get to a section that fit. "She speaks: / O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art / As glorious to this night, being o'er my head / As is a winged messenger of heaven / Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes / Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him / When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds / And sails upon the bosom of the air."

"And still impressed," Rose said, taking a sip from her wine and leaning her elbows against the balcony railing. "I feel like I should tell you that my name's not Juliet though. And I have no intention of dying young or being one half of a pair of star-crossed lovers."

"It would be a waste for you to die young," he said, his first words to her that were his own. "And I'll have you know that I'm very impressive even when I'm not drunk."

"I'll bet, Romeo," she said with another laugh. This was a much more entertaining way to spend her Friday than slogging her way through Paradise Lost.

He made a face. "No, no, I'm no Romeo."

"Then what should I call you?"

Rose could see his eyes twinkle before he opened his mouth and knew she'd set herself up for another quotation.

He didn't disappoint. "What's in a name? that which we call a rose / By any other name would smell as sweet; / So Romeo would, were he not Romeo call'd, / Retain that dear perfection which he owes / Without that title."

"You declaim well, good sir," Rose called, "but I do believe you cast me in the role of Juliet and that was my line.

"You missed your cue," he shot back cheekily.

"You did manage to hit upon my name though," Rose said.

He made an adorably confused face up at her. "Is your name Romeo?"

Rose laughed. "No. I'm no Romeo either. My name's Rose."

"Rose," he said, repeating it a few times like he was testing out how it tasted on his tongue. "Much better than Romeo or Juliet," he declared.

"And what's your name?"

"John."

"So, we've still got the R and J covered," she pointed out. He rewarded her with a grin for the observation.

"And you really are as bright as the sun and kind of look like an angel from down here, all golden and smiling," he said, words starting to slur together again.

"You're drunk, John."

He considered for a moment. "That is a possibility but you're still gorgeous. That's just a fact. Seen you around the building when I was sober so I know."

"You're not so bad yourself," she responded, meaning every word. Her drunk Romeo was incredibly fit and just her type. "Think I would have noticed you around though."

"Seen you from my balcony or when you were in a hurry. Never had the courage to talk to you," he admitted.

"Well I'm glad the alcohol could give you that. Why don't you go sleep it off though?"

"Because I'm talking to you," he said like that was an actual valid excuse.

"You can talk to me again when you're sober," she pointed out. "I'm in 205, drop by sometime and you can tell me why exactly you have the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet memorized so thoroughly."

"It's a deal, Rose," he promised. "And in case I forget, I live in 410 so you can come up there if you'd like."

"Go home, John. Don't forget to drink some water before going to sleep," Rose said gently.

"A thousand times good night!" he called, bowing once more before starting to stumble towards the building's entrance.

He just turned and shot her an impossibly wide grin when she yelled after him that he was stealing her lines again.


End file.
